Route 66, a Wicked Stepmother, and Stolen Cars
by LionsandGods
Summary: In this modern retelling of Hansel and Gretel, Hayden and Gail attempt to find their idea of "home" along Route 66.


Route 66 was known for a lot of things to folks who had taken it before. To most, it was one of the best ways to travel—nearly 2,500 miles of highway from almost one coast to the exact opposite. It was a place of adventure and exploration, someplace where the normalcy of routine and daily life was lost between yellow lines and the smell of asphalt. Any guess about Route 66 was most likely accurate, since the twists and bends always seemed different depending on what car you were in and who you were driving with. But for brother and sister Hayden and Gail, Route 66 felt like an entirely different world.

Rewind fourteen years, Pennsylvania: when Hayden was two years old, his sister Gail was born, her face flush with the color of roses and her hair a light auburn, eyes large and glowing. Their father, Samuel, loved the two children just as much as he loved the air he inhaled every day. He loved looking into their faces and seeing bits of him and their mother in the things that made the children unique and imperfect—like Gail's birthmarks that seemed to look like Orion's Belt was printed on the back of her neck, or the flecks of brown in Hayden's eyes when the light hit them just right. To Samuel, they were a blessing, but his wife and the children's step mother thought differently.

Fast forward a few years, Ohio: the family was poor, and Samuel had a hard time keeping a steady job in the same city as a candle maker and fragrance seller, forcing the four of them to travel from state to state, small house to small house, sometimes only staying for a couple of months. As much as Samuel wanted to stay positive for the innocence and good of the children, the stepmother always had something negative to say about the home that they were in. She would spend some nights simply complaining to her husband in bed, the two of them sitting with their spines pressed tall against the backboard of the bed. Sometimes he would listen, but it all started to sound the same, her voice filled with aggression. "You know, this morning I couldn't even wash the laundry because the water was so dirty brown. It wouldn't even get them clean if I were to wash them in that filth, Samuel, even if I used all of the detergent in the world," she would say, or something just as general.

Samuel would hush her, because more often than not, the walls of the houses where they lived were thin and the children were so very close. Sometimes he would fold his reading glasses into his lap and tell her he was sorry—although it was never his fault, it was just something to say—and that he would try and find a better place for them.

The conversation would then stretch between fifteen to forty minutes, depending on how much fight was in the stepmother at the time. Gail usually slept through most of it, but Hayden had been composing a list of complaints that were spewed out of the woman's mouth for the past three years. He had tally marks next to each complaint, with different colors or patterns for different homes they had kept. All of them were petty, of course, but some of them were so low he wondered how his father was still married to such a woman who would complain about the few missing tiles in one of the best bathrooms they had ever been in. Hayden knew that one day, the levy was going to break and something was going to happen.

Fast forward to the night before Gail's fourteenth birthday, 11:32 pm, Iowa: Gail laid fast asleep in her makeshift bed of a blow up mattress and blankets adjacent to Hayden's. It would take Hayden ten steps to leave the room and exit into the hallway, another five to reach his father and stepmother's bedroom. His list had a new edition—the ceilings were too low and the watercolor wallpaper looked like a spray of blood from a horror scene. Hayden could hear Samuel close his book and place it on his lap, could almost hear his fingers curling around the cover.

And that night, Samuel broke the cycle. Instead of apologizing or hushing his wife, he said calmly, his tone final, "Anna, I'm not exactly sure what you want me to do anymore." There was a silence that covered the entire space, slowly and twisting in between exhales and the headlights that were cast in through the curtains when a car passed. Hayden hadn't even realized he was holding his breath until he released it, the silence finally stretching across his face and features, settling into his nose.

It had to have been at least thirty seconds before his stepmother responded, her voice a low rattle, "it's those goddamn kids, Samuel."

A feeling settled into Hayden's chest. It wasn't fear, but it wasn't anything he liked, either. It felt dark and black, and it crawled underneath his fingernails and into his mouth. He rolled onto his side, facing Gail, trying to think of something that wasn't the conversation that was happening right now. For once, he wished he hadn't overheard the conversations between the two of them, wished there weren't new additions to the list and new things spilling out of her mouth that felt like needles in his nerves. She was discussing how everything wasn't Samuel's fault, it was the children's. "We would be able to support your business if we didn't have to worry about Hayden and Gail always wanting to learn things or having to feed them."

He could hear his father disagreeing with her, his voice strong and driving, trying to convince her otherwise. A part of Hayden knew what was going to happen, the other half of him wishing it wasn't so. Even though Samuel loved the two children just as much as he loved the air he inhaled every day, sometimes love wasn't enough, and Hayden learned that in the next few days. But he had forgiven his father, because that's what sons do when their fathers have to make hard decisions, like abandoning his two children at a convenience store along Route 66 in order to not become homeless with his new wife; because he loved his father.

Rewind four hours: Hayden had made Gail a bracelet of her favorite colors for her birthday because he knew she would be upset that fourteen wasn't as important of a birthday as thirteen or sixteen or eighteen. It was knots of white, lavender, and gold. He had found the strings in a box with others underneath a loose floorboard in their bedroom, along with an old matchbox from the 70's, a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, and a black and white fading photograph of a young couple in their early twenties. Hayden also made her a makeshift card from businesses proposals Samuel had sent places and had been rejected and sent back. There was an entire stack of them, so he also created a small box from three of them to stick the bracelet in, decorating it with highlighter colored flowers and suns. The card was attached on top, which contained the meaning behind the colors he had chosen for his sister, which stretched beyond the fact that they were her favorites. He knew that they were unnecessary because they were things that Gail couldn't possibly forget, but he figured it would be a good reminder for the longer days he could not foresee or protect her from.

"Gold is for queens,

White is for your innocence,

And lavender is for everything between."

Fast forward to the next day, 10:12 am: The children's step mother woke them up with untoasted bread for breakfast and an announcement that she and Samuel were going to take them on a secret road trip to celebrate Gail's birthday. "I don't think there's anything better than an open road for a maturing girl," she had said in defense when Gail had asked her why in a suspicious and anxious kind of way.

She then sent a look to her brother, who looked at her calmly in response, silently telling her everything he couldn't tell her aloud at the time. They packed their bags for the next few days and Hayden tucked his sister's present into his pocket, saving it for the time she would need it most. He also packed the box he discovered under the floorboards, feeling like he should take a part of his last home with him so he would never forget certain things.

Fast forward a half an hour: they piled into Samuel's old Ford Taurus, the children in the back and the adults in the front. "Put your seatbelts on," Samuel instructed.

"Samuel, they're young adults now, they can make their own decisions," the children's step mother replied.

The word "independence" felt strange swimming around in Hayden's head, but he knew it would sound stranger if he let it escape, so he let it swirl around on the back of his tongue instead in waves, feeling it surf across the power lines he watched pass outside of his window.

The car ride was silent for the most part; Gail was reading a book Samuel had bought her for her birthday, using the white ribbon as a bookmark when she would get car sick occasionally. It was a book of fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm. Gail was always a child at heart—even in the years when she would shy away from everything that would happen in the next few weeks and months; like turn twenty-three and have a proper boyfriend, a steady job, and smile when she saw movies that included Route 66 or fathers whose love was never enough. She always appreciated fairy tales, would grip their backs tight and inhale the words on the pages just like she would inhale the smell of tea on nights when she was sick: greedy and still so very peaceful. When she stumbled across one she loved, she would read an excerpt aloud to her brother.

Gail would watch Hayden as he laid his head against the glass window or the dying pleather headrest, his eyes closed so he could really picture it. Sometimes Hayden didn't like to know what story it was because it gave him a clear mind on everything—a new perspective and a way to clear the slate of things he already had preconceived notions about. His favorite was always _Hansel and Gretel_.

After what felt like years of driving, Samuel stopped the car at a small gas and convenience store in the middle of nowhere. "Why are we stopping?" Gail looked up from her book.

"I need to get gas," Samuel said. Hayden could see the gas gage from where he was sitting behind his stepmother's seat. The car had half a tank left, and about two miles back, there was a sign that said there was another gas station in fifteen miles. He swallowed his fear, his muscles tight.

Their step mother turned around to the children, opening her palm to reveal a few crumpled bills and change. "Here's three dollars," she handed Gail the change. "Go to the bathroom and buy yourselves some snacks." As the step mother started to face forward, she made eye contact with Hayden, who sent her back an even look. He knew. She smiled in return.

Gail and Hayden exited the car, but Hayden paused, turned around toward the road. He was trying to figure out what way to go if he and his sister were left there, his eyes squinting as he scanned the road both ways. He couldn't remember how long it was to the last town they passed through. His step mother rolled down her window. "Boy!" She said. "What're you looking at?"

Hayden chewed on his lower lip before responding, still searching his brain for information. "I thought I saw a white cat," he lied.

His step mother took a minute to look around. "I don't see any damn cat," she said, her voice nearly a hiss. "And even if there was one, you're not going to take it with us. Now go."

Hayden sent a knowing look to his father before following Gail inside. "I'll buy you something," he suggested, taking the money from hr. "Go to the bathroom."

His sister agreed and disappeared into the back of the store. Hayden watched as his father and step mother emptied their bags out of the car. Samuel made eye contact with his son accidentally. For a moment, his eyes went soft and Hayden thought his father would maybe snap out of it and realize what he was doing was wrong. But then Samuel looked away, dropping Gail's backpack on the curb.

Hayden looked away and bought two water bottles and a granola bar for him and Gail to share; waiting for his sister by the door once the two adults were gone. When she game out, she paused, seeing there was not car. "Where's dad?"

She watched her brother turn, his eyebrows straight, mouth straight—all his features straight—but his eyes were off. They looked at each other for longer than a standard second, unblinking, not breathing. "I don't know," Hayden said finally, once he found his words. "Let's look outside."

They exited the convenience store and Gail spotted the bags on the curb. Trying not to tremble, she sat down next to her backpack. "I bet they saw that cat you saw and dad was getting it for us. Let's just sit and wait for a minute, okay?"

Hayden didn't respond, just sat down next to his sister and handed her a water bottle.

Fast forward a half an hour, still at the convenience store: "This is the worst birthday ever," Gail said.

Hayden sat down next to her on the curb, pulling out the paper box from his pocket. "Happy birthday, Gail."

Fast forward to the next day, : Gail and Hayden had spent the past ten hours walking along Route 66 until they reached a small town. With ten hours and nothing but a stretch of blacktop, the two were allowed time to think about what to do with their current situation. Gail was afraid, her small fourteen year old eyebrows furrowed in thought, rotating the bracelet Hayden had made her on her wrist as she carried her backpack. Hayden was quiet and serious, his hands dug into his pockets and wrapped around the pack of Marlboros he had found in the box. He wondered if he could use them to cut a deal with someone or if that only worked in the prison yard. He had never been to prison and never had to make a deal in his life, so he wasn't entirely sure.

They entered a small mechanics shop that smelled like grease and something else that wasn't quite oil. There was a scraggly man at a desk in the back, a small lollypop in his mouth as he did paperwork. He looked up once Hayden blocked out his light. "Can I help you?" He had a Midwestern accent—a drawl.

"We need a car," Hayden said, his sister examining the men at work as she stood behind his left shoulder.

The man sat back, folding his hands in his lap. "How old are you, kid?"

"Old enough."

"Do you have money?"

"Not exactly," Hayden answered slowly. He held up the pack of Marlboros, handing it across the table.

The man pushed his chair back once he checked to see how many cigarettes were inside, causing it to roar on the concrete floor. "Come with me a second."

The siblings followed, sticking close together but far apart from the man, who moved slow and loose. He opened a dark blue tool box, holding up a long, flat, metal stick. It had a bit of a looped mouth at the end and the siblings observed it. "This, kids, is a slim jim. Like that weird beef jerky shit." He held it straight up and down, the looped mouth facing down. "Slide this into a car door window and the lock will pop. Know how to hot wire a car?"

"A bit," Hayden said, which wasn't a lie. He learned a lot of things from the neighborhood kids he was four day friends with. Gail had stopped being surprised years ago.

"Then you'll be fine." The man flipped open the pack of cigarettes Hayden had presented him and put one in between his teeth, letting it hang out of his mouth. "You better learn how to make money, though."

"Why are you helping us?" Gail asked, the question simply slipping off her tongue.

"Curiosity killed the cat, sweetie," the man grinned, his eyes crinkling around the edges. The cigarette moved as he talked. "But maybe I'll save you just once." He paused, lighting the cigarette from a pack of matches from his back pocket. "Once upon a time, a mean old witch abandoned my brother and I in the middle of the supermarket parking lot with nothing but a bag of candy and a rubber duck that we had just bought. Long story short, I know what it's like to be on your own and have to take care of someone that you love."

Four hours later: the siblings had stolen a cheap car from an abandoned parking lot a few blocks down, finding fifty dollars in the poor soul's wallet, which he unknowingly left in the car. While Hayden drove the two of them, Gail flipped through Norman Beed's wallet, wondering what his life story was.

The wallet was sitting on her Brothers Grimm book on top of her lap, her and her brother's bags thrown into the back seat for more space. They also found a bag of apples in the trunk, along with a Frisbee and a few Billie Holiday CDs. Grail wondered if Norman liked Billie Holiday because it was what his parents used to listen to every night at nine in the library of their house, his father reading the newspaper, his mother sewing, and little Norman playing with trucks or doing his homework on the floor, his legs up in the air. She wondered if the apples were for him and if he ate them obsessively every time he drove in the car, or if he had a girlfriend who he made apple pies with every Sunday because of a running tradition for the past four months. She wondered if the picture of the man in uniform in the photo slot was his brother or his best friend, especially when she read the message on the back. In messy but elegant scrawl, the message read: "Norman— I hope this picture finds you on days when you're unsure how to get home. –W"

Gail was tender when she put the picture back into its plastic slot in Norman's wallet, more careful than she was when she took it out. It was the only picture in the wallet, and although she and Hayden had stolen his car, his money, and maybe the most important thing to him, she didn't want to disrespect W's honor. "I'll Be Seeing You" was playing over the stereo system, the crackle of the old audio still intact and for a moment, Gail felt older than fourteen and so very far away from everything that had happened so far that day. She watched Hayden drive, one hand on the stick shift and one on the wheel, his knuckles white and his eyes on the road. She knew that her brother was trying to be brave for the both of them, but she thought maybe sometimes he was already growing up too fast. So Gail opened up her storybook and flipped until she found _Hansel and Gretel_.

She turned the stereo down with the curve of her finger—keeping it just loud enough to hear the crackle and the weight of Billie's voice, but not loud enough to overpower everything in the car. The hum of the tires mixed with the stereo, creating a lullaby behind Gail's voice as she began to read to Hayden. She kept her eyes on the book and he kept his on the road, neither of them noting aloud the three tears that drifted down his cheeks.

One hour later, somewhere in Colorado: the siblings needed money—something more than fifty dollars and Norman's old credit cards. Hayden knew that they needed to rely on cash. If Norman had already reported his stolen car—which he had—then the police would be on the lookout for anyone using his cards. Fifty dollars could only buy one tank of gas and a meal. If they were going to survive, they needed something more.

Fortunately, the two of them had a talent. At their first home and others they had stayed in, they had gotten to know the ins and outs of billiards. So they went to a billiard hall, one with low, dim lights, the smell of smoke sticking to the floors and the walls, and gritty men with faces like beasts and monsters; their smiles crooked and their eyes flashing a pale resemblance of slightly opaque glass.

Hayden bought a coffee for himself and a club soda for Gail, the two of them slipping against a table close to the pool table. They sized up a few guys. Sometimes Hayden would point out a few and Gail would shake her head, sometimes it happened the opposite way. Finally, they found two—cocky and loud. They were across from Gail and Hayden; one sitting down with his back against the wall and the other standing near him, laughing in a cackle.

Something inside of Hayden was stirring. It wasn't fear or regret or anger toward his father and step mother—it was something else entirely. It mixed with his innocence inside of his tender heart, the two emotions fighting for dominance. It was something darker than Hayden had known; something gritty like sand in your mouth after the wind blew on the beach or dirt under your fingernails. He swallowed it down as he finished his coffee, smoothing down his hair as he stood up. "Let's go," he said to Gail, who followed next to him up to the two men.

"Hey," Hayden said to the men as they approached, slipping into the seat opposite the man.

The one standing looked at both the siblings, wondering what was about to happen. "Can we help you?" He asked.

"We wanted to play pool. We're just learning and we're not too good. We figured pros like you could help us out—tell us what our mistakes are, see what we could improve."

"How old are you?" The man sitting down sneered, revealing decaying teeth that made Gail glad she and Hayden brushed their teeth every night.

"Old enough," she said evenly. It was always better if Gail talked in these situations because she was younger. No matter what kind of tone she said things; people would think that they didn't know better.

The two men looked at each other, exchanging the same look. The one sitting down stood up. "You kids know we're playing for money, right?" Hayden nodded, standing up now as well. "Well, what've you got?"

"We only have forty," Gail took over again, although her brother held up the money. "I hope that's enough."

The taller one grinned again. "Sure, sweetheart." They always thought it was gonna be an easy game. Two kids? Done in seconds.

Fast forward an hour and a half and three games later: Hayden and Gail made two hundred and fifty dollars and also got someone's piece of shit car, which they slept in until morning. Hayden began to drive at nine that day while Gail read to him aloud from the Brothers Grimm book Samuel had given her until they stopped at a convenience store for gas and food.

Gail bought a postcard that said "wish you were here" and scribbled her father's name on it. She paused when she had to write a forwarding address, realizing there wasn't really a place for her to send it. It was the first time she had acknowledged since the day they were left alone that she and Hayden were probably never going to see their father again.

Gail kept the postcard anyway, sticking it deep into her jacket pocket.

Fast forward two weeks, 9:08 am, Utah: Hayden watched his sister's eyes drift around the diner, landing on families of tourists and companies of friends. There was comforting warmth that settled around the siblings when they had entered the diner, which was why they had chosen it. They were getting sick of the dimly lit back rooms, of the smoke sticking to their clothes and having to squint whenever they left a building. The light was bright, the waitress smiled and called Gail sweetheart, and Hayden felt his chest begin to thaw as soon as he slipped into the booth.

He picked up his mug of coffee, letting his fingers curl around it as she spoke up. "I wonder what it's like to have a mother." Her voice was even, unafraid and brave.

Hayden's eyes met his sister's. He shrugged. She shrugged back.

"Finish your toast," Hayden said, so Gail did. They finished the rest of their breakfast in a knowing silence, paid the check and tip with the money they had hustled the night before, drew a duck on the back of the receipt, and left; saying thank you as they passed their waitress on the way out.

Hayden stuffed his hands into the pocket of his jacket, matching Gail's steps. He could see her already scanning the parking lot, searching for the best fit. "You wanna take this one?" He asked, though he already knew the answer. It was permission.

She didn't respond or even give a look of acknowledgement, just kept scanning. She led them behind the back of the diner, where an old, purple VW van sat, just calling to her. Gail smiled at it, walking up to it swiftly. Hayden leaned against the back of the van while his sister lifted the slim jim out of the back of her shirt, sliding it easily into the lock of the car. It popped and she slipped inside, finding an extra key under the seat. Her brother turned once the engine started, rolling off the back of the van and into the front seat.

There was a tape deck that started to play once the engine kicked in. Hayden looked at the label as it started, reading it out loud: "Nursery Rhymes and the Brothers Grimm." Gail grinned as they backed out of the parking lot, leaving for the next adventure.

Four and a half hours later, somewhere on Route 66: Hayden took over driving from Gail and the two of them scanned the radio for something to listen to. Gail had her feet up on the dashboard, her head halfway off of the passenger seat. "Go to sleep," her brother suggested, noticing her eyes begin to drift.

"Nah." She stuck her hand in the pocket of her jacket, pulling out the postcard.

She sat up, reading over the bulletin words. _Wish you were here, wish you were here._ Gail rolled down the window to the van, outstretched her arm, and watched the card drift out of her finger tips, floating among the dirt and American air, racing the van on Route 66 to someplace they could call home.


End file.
